


Tight Suits and Thigh Straps

by queermartins



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, Mild Sexual Content, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queermartins/pseuds/queermartins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison, Scott and Stiles take on heists to pay their way through college. </p><p>Not everything goes to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight Suits and Thigh Straps

It's not that Stiles did it on purpose. Scott knows that, they all do. He didn't mean to turn them into barely-adult heisters. He just happened to know someone who needed something to be 'permanently borrowed', one who was willing to pay a substantial amount. Scott can't really blame him, either; college is expensive. It was only natural to bring Scott in on it - and Allison, well, Allison has a particular set of...skills. Now they kind of have a reputation. 

Allison trails into the room, exhaustion radiating from her in waves, Scott's old lacrosse jersey and a pair of Stiles' sweatpants barely hanging off her hips. She squishes herself in between them on the couch. Scott puts his arm around her reflexively, tries to bite back a grin when Stiles does the same. He joins their hands together behind Allison's head, and the grin breaks free.

"Derek called. He has a job lined up. Some guy and his son want us to steal a family heirloom from their rivals." She sidles up to Scott's side, resting her head on his chest before taking Stiles' spare hand in her own. It still surprises him how much warmth it fills him with, the three of them being together. It was amazing when it was just him and Allison, it really was, but after they talked about bringing Stiles into their relationship, everything clicked into place. 

"A family heirloom? He called us at seven in the morning for a family heirloom?" Stiles asks incredulously. Scott feels more than sees Allison smooth her thumb over Stiles' hand. 

"The client is willing to pay us 500k for the job. Small acceptance window." Of course there is: large amount of money, limited time offer. That always means that there's something fishy going on, and he doesn't like it. 

"What's the catch?" he asks, because he knows there is one, always is with this type of job. He's not willing to agree to it if it puts Allison and Stiles at risk. Well, at more risk than usual. 

She hums against his chest, and the sound vibrates through his entire body, settling his unease just like it always has. Stiles settles himself into the crook of her knees, rests his head on her thigh, and Scott stares at their conjoined hands, the warmth starting to pulsate through his body again. 

"No idea," is all she says before they all drift off to sleep again, awaiting Derek's inevitable arrival. 

\--  
He wakes up to Derek gently kicking his foot, Allison and Stiles still sound asleep. 

"What time is it?" he asks, tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. 

“Eight-thirty," Derek replies. Scott can feel the panic rise in his chest; he has class in a half hour and he isn't even dressed properly yet. 

"Oh crap, guys, get up." He starts to shake them awake, deftly dodging Allison's swatting. "Class in half an hour." That seems to do the trick - they're both stumbling to their feet straight away. 

"You're going to want to miss class if you want this job," Derek says. Scott had almost forgotten he was there in his haste to wake everyone up. "Meet me at Guiliano's in an hour, dress nice." 

Then he's leaving again. It's only then that Scott notices the suit, dark grey and tight in all the right places. It reminds him a bit of Jackson. 

\--

They do clean up nicely, if he says so himself. The instructions 'dress nice' were a bit vague, but judging by Derek's outfit, he didn't mean business-casual. Scott opted for the black suit he wore to Allison's cousin's wedding last year, minus the tie, and Stiles followed his lead, wearing a dark grey suit that's startlingly similar to the one he wore to senior prom clinging to him in all the places he's filled out since then. He suspects that the dark navy dress that Allison's wearing originally belonged in Lydia's wardrobe, but he doesn't comment on it. 

When they get there, they can see Derek's camaro parked out front. Scott muses aloud that he thinks Derek will probably never get rid of that thing. Which of course, prompts Stiles to mourn over his beloved Jeep. He had had to get rid it of just after they started college. Allison hushes them as they walk through the doors to the restaurant's waiting area, where Derek is perched on a very expensive looking sofa. Surprisingly, Lydia is next to him, their hands joined in the space between them. 

"You're early," Derek grunts, and if Scott didn't know any better he would say Derek sounds surprised. 

"Of course they're early. Allison hates being lat,." Lydia says. Before he knows it Allison is disentangling her hand from his to pull Lydia into a hug. If he didn't know for a fact that Allison and Lydia had lunch three days ago, he would say that they hadn't seen each other in days. 

Derek hums, standing to open the door for them all to go through. Allison threads her fingers through both his and Stiles' as they enter what he assumes is the main restaurant. He's immediately hit with an overpowering scent of expensive cigars and champagne. 

Derek leads them all the way to the back of the restaurant and through a door, stamped with ‘VIPs only.’

Scott suddenly feels underdressed when they enter the backroom. It's filled with middle-aged men dressed in fancy tuxedos, and their wives in beautiful dresses and expensive pearls. He feels like he's been transported to a gangster movie from the 60s. Judging by the looks on Stiles and Allison's faces, they feel the same way. Derek and Lydia don't seem affected in the slightest. 

"He'll be with you in a moment, sir," the waiter says, pouring them all a glass of champagne, without even checking if any of them were underage first. He thinks that it's probably not that kind of restaurant. 

They all settle into their seats. It’s silent for a moment, until Stiles pipes up.

"This is the fanciest restaurant I've ever seen in my entire life." 

"Of course it is," Derek retorts. Lydia elbows him in the side and he almost spills his champagne. 

Stiles makes a mimicking noise and sticks his tongue out at Derek. Allison elbows him in the side, too. 

"Ouch," Stiles yelps. "He started it." 

Before anyone can say anything in return, their attention is drawn to a set of double doors on the opposite side of the room. The air is knocked out of his lungs when he realises who their client is. He hears soft gasps from Allison and Stiles - the only confirmation that this is in fact, real. 

"Mayor," Derek greets the greying man as he sits opposite them. 

"Let us skip the pleasantries, shall we. This is a business lunch after all," he says pointedly, taking a menu from the waiter and setting it on his plate. 

"I'll have the lobster," the mayor says, without even looking at the waiter. Scott decides he's an asshole there and then. 

"Order," he instructs. Scott can't help himself from ordering the cheapest item on the menu even though he knows he won't be paying. 

"With all due respect, Sir," Allison starts over her steak, "You have access to pretty much anything and anyone you want. Why hire us?" It's a good question. 

"Good question, little lady." Scott knows that it's a bad thing to say before the mayor even finishes his sentence. 

"I'm not a child." She makes fists of her hands on the table, her voice matching the steel of the knife he knows she has strapped to her thigh. 

"My apologies," he says and actually looks impressed. "I need this to be discreet. You have quite the reputation for being both discreet and efficient." It's true, they are good; they have rules. 

"So, what's the job?" It's Stiles who says what they're all thinking. He's always been more suspicious than Scott, even when they were kids. 

The mayor lets out a nervous laugh.

"I'm afraid that I wasn't entirely truthful when I talked to your friend here." He gestures to Derek, who has a scowl set firmly in place. 

"You mean you lied." Allison tilts her head to the side, slight smirk in place. She's like a cat toying with her prey before going in for the killer bite. 

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I told your friend Damian her-" 

"Derek," Lydia corrects him pointedly.

"-Derek, Right. I told your friend Derek that I needed a family heirloom stolen. That's not entirely true." 

"By not entirely true, you mean completely false, I assume?" Allison asks even though they all know the answer. Scott smiles to himself. Stiles has to stifle a giggle, Derek tries to turn his giggle into a smirk but fails miserably. Even Lydia gives a smile. 

The mayor doesn't answer, but his jaw tightens and he briefly looks at the table. 

"It's a flash drive. It has certain sensitive material that would be useful for my campaign to be re-elected next year."

"And who would we be 'acquiring' this drive from?" 

"Evan Smolinski. It has footage of him partaking in certain illicit activities that would be harmful to his image. He keeps it in his private study. I'll pay you a million dollars on top of the original price." That will definitely cover this month's rent.

"How are we supposed to get in there? His mansion has more security than Fort Knox," Stiles says. Scott figures that it's just a front; they all know that they're taking this job. 

"He's throwing a party in my honour tomorrow evening. I'll bring you as my staff advisors. You can walk right in." 

Scott can't believe he's about to say it.

"Deal." 

\--

Lydia decided after lunch that fancy parties needed fancy clothes. Hence her dragging them all to the mall. Apparently Allison and Scott needed the most help, which Scott is slightly offended by; he's always had more style than Stiles. 

"It's not about style, Scott. It's about fitting in," Lydia chastises. Apparently fitting in is about more than just wearing a fancy suit. "You and Allison looked as stiff as a rod at Giuliano's. She's better at hiding it, though." He smirks at that. 

"She's right, we have to look comfortable. If we don't, we'll stick out," Allison says. She's approaching him, stalking behind him. She runs her hands down his arms, he can feel her rise onto her tip-toes to ghost her breath over the back of his neck. 

"Plus, you look really good in that suit," she purrs into the shell of his ear. 

A little extra incentive never hurt anyone. 

\--

The sex is always great the night before a job. Not that it's not great usually, but there's something rawer about when they're getting ready to pull something off. All slick sweat and heated kisses. 

It leaves them with an air of confidence, one they're going to need if they're going to make tonight work. 

\--

The limo the mayor sends arrives at 7 on the dot. Allison and Scott are ready, but it leaves Stiles rushing out of the apartment worrying about over-gelling his hair. 

The journey to the Smolinski mansion is quiet. Allison doesn't say anything, just wraps her hand in his and looks at the road as it passes by. Stiles is pressed against him from shoulder to foot. Stiles can't stop bouncing his foot on the floor, it's kind of irritating. Scott puts his hand on Stiles' thigh and it stills instantly. Stiles smiles at him sheepishly. 

"Nervous," he barely gets out out. 

"It's okay. We can do this." He squeezes them both. "We can." 

\--  
"Mr Smolinski. These are my new staff campaign consultants," the mayor says, gesturing to each of them in turn. "Allison, Scott and Stiles. Trying to reach a younger voting pool."

They all shake his hand, which is kind of sweaty. He smiles brightly at Allison, stretching to the edges of his greying beard. It unsettles Scott to the pit of his stomach, and he thinks that maybe he knows what's on that drive. 

Allison smoothes her hand over her dress where her knives are strapped. It's impressive, really, how many weapons she can conceal so discreetly. 

\--  
"He'll make a speech in a few minutes. Everyone will be too busy watching him to notice that you're gone. The window is closing." 

Scott checks with Allison and Stiles briefly, before nodding at him. 

"Where?" he asks. 

"First floor, second door on your right. Then go to the end of the hallway, it's the first door on your left," the mayor answers, just as Mr. Smolinski taps a fork against his champagne glass and everyone gathers around. 

They start to make their way towards the staircase. The mayor grabs Scott's arm. 

"Safe to say that if any of you try to screw me over, there will be consequences." 

"Yes, sir." 

\--  
"Allison, will you just admit that you forgot the directions he gave us?" Stiles practically yells. 

"Will you shut up?! You're going to attract attention to us," she hisses back, as loud as one can be when whispering. 

Scott spots a member of Smolinski's security detail approaching them. 

"Too late." He nods at the security guy. Allison turns around and steels herself. 

"Remember the rules. No one dies," he reminds her. 

She winds him with a quick jab at first, then with an elbow to the neck. He staggers, trying to land a swing on Allison, but she hits him with another elbow to the side of the neck and he drops to the floor, unconscious. She drags him by the feet into the first room with an open door. 

\--  
"First door on the left, it's this one." Scott says. He turns the doorknob but it doesn't budge. It's not unexpected, and they came prepared. They're professionals after all. 

Allison hands Stiles a lockpicking kit from the garter under her dress. Stiles crouches by the door and gets to work, Allison and Scott keeping watch. 

"Think the guy in the closet is going to be a problem?" Scott asks. It's been nagging at him in the back of his mind that he could ID them. 

"I don't know," she says. "I'm hoping he won't remember." Maybe he won't, but Scott doubts it. Not many people forget being hit in the throat by an attractive woman in high heels and a dress. 

"This job was supposed to be clean. Everyone was supposed to be listening to the speech." 

"It was Stiles and his yelling. They're probably going to send someone looking for him soon. We need to be quick." She sends Stiles an accusing look, but he knows she's not being serious. 

"Got it," Stiles announces. "Also I can hear you, you know." Allison smiles sweetly at him as he opens the door. 

"If I were a flash drive, where would I be?" Stiles muses aloud. 

"Got it." Allison says, pulling the drive from the laptop on the desk. 

That was easy. Perhaps too easy. 

\--

Allison has the flash drive safely stored in her bra, and after a quick once over making sure there's nothing out of place, they head out of the office and back downstairs to rejoin the main party with no more hiccups. 

"Fill us in on what Smolinski said in his speech," Allison instructs the mayor when they rejoin the party. 

"Why?" The old man looks bewildered. 

"It's just in case someone asks questions. It would look suspicious if we didn't know what he said," Scott explains to him politely, deciding not to mention the security detail in the first floor closet. 

"Oh, yes. He talked about how when we were in college together, he never expected to be running against me for mayor. He thinks I've done a great job, that kind of stuff." 

"Speaking of the devil." Stiles cocks his head towards Mr. Smolinski approaching them. There's a beautiful woman on his arm, and Scott's pretty sure that she's not who he was introducing as his wife earlier. 

"Don't panic," Allison says. It's directed towards the mayor, but Scott and Stiles nod anyway. 

"So, how did you like the speech?" Smolinski directs the question towards Allison again, accompanied by another one of his beard-stretching smiles. 

"It was interesting," she smiles back. "It's strange hearing about the mayor being in college." 

"Yes, it seems like a lifetime ago." He looks at the mayor now. Scott supposes his expression is supposed to be threatening but it's just creepy. 

"Speak for yourself." They both laugh, although they have to be the fakest laughs that he's ever heard. Smolinski walks away again, probably to schmooze some other guests. 

"After we leave, I'll arrange with one of you to hand the drive over tomorrow. It's too risky to do it here with everyone watching." 

Scott agrees.

\--  
He's awoken at 8am by his phone going off. He disentangles himself from the mess of limbs that they seem to have arranged themselves in during the night, and fumbles around in the greyness for his phone. 

"Derek, if this is you I swear to -"

"Hand over the package in the hospital parking lot at midday, don't be late," a gruff voice says into his ear. The line goes dead.

“Who was that?” Allison sits up next to him and kisses his shoulder. All the movement rustles Stiles from sleep, too.

“Someone who works for the mayor, I guess. We’re supposed to do the handover in the hospital parking lot at midday. I can’t do it, I have class at eleven.” Allison kisses his shoulders again, Stiles joins in. He can feel them smirking against his skin.

“I’ll do it. You two have class and I can do it on the way to my twelve-thirty class,” Stiles murmurs against his shoulder. 

“Now come back to bed,” Stiles says, kissing his way up Scott’s neck to his jawline. Allison pushes him back against the mattress, hands already wandering lower.

Yeah, that works for him.

\--  
The rest of the day goes great. He has breakfast with Stiles and Allison, gets an A on his Principles of Animal Nutrition class, walks Allison to her evening class and heads home.

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles beams at him when he walks through the door. Scott kisses him, short and sweet, although he can’t help deepening it.

“How was class?” he asks Stiles. Scott knows he had Statistics today, and that he hates that class with a burning passion.

“Oh, you know, just did some statistics and stuff,” Stiles says, walking over to the TV and handing him an Xbox controller. Scott raises his eyebrows and shakes his head fondly, but lets it go. It’s just a general ed class, anyway.

“So, Xbox marathon?” he suggests. It’s been awhile since they’ve had a good Xbox marathon, with school life and getting so many jobs lately; they haven’t really had that much down time.

“Yeah, and maybe some other stuff later, too. If you’re lucky.” He grins.

Maybe he lets Stiles win, just so he can be a part of that ‘other stuff’.

\--

It feels strange waking up in the morning. Sure, he’s grateful for the weekend, but something feels off. He rolls over onto his other side to bury his nose into Allison’s hair, taking Stiles’ hand and wrapping it around his torso. And then he realises.

Allison’s not there. There’s nothing but cold, empty sheets where she should be.

Panic rises in his chest and courses through his veins. He searches for his phone in case she had gone to Derek and Lydia’s after class. Nothing.

“Stiles!!” He shakes Stiles furiously until he wakes. “Stiles!!”

“Whaaaa?” Stiles murmurs sleepily in return. 

“Allison didn’t come home. She didn’t text or call, either.”

“What?” Scott picks up the panic in Stiles’ voice now. This has never happened in the year they’ve been living together. Never.

“I’m going to try calling her,” he says, clicking on Allison’s name and waiting the agonising few seconds it takes for it to start ringing. It starts to ring, and ring, and ring. There’s no answer, no pick up, it doesn’t even go to voicemail; just ends abruptly, leaving him with cold silence.

“That’s weird, why wouldn’t it just go to-” He’s interrupted by his phone going off, unknown number. 

“Uh, hello?” he ventures, slightly hesitantly.

“It seems you have difficulty following instructions, Mr. McCall.” The voice on the other end is deep and he can hear rustling in the background. He’s confused, and it must show. Stiles motions for him to put it on speaker.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“You were supposed to deliver the package in the parking lot of the hospital yesterday at midday. It wasn’t a particularly difficult instruction to follow. You were warned that there would be consequences if you tried to screw Mr. Mayor over.”

“We didn’t try to screw anyone over!” Stiles handed over the drive yesterday, it’s not their fault that it might not have made it to the mayor yet.

“Your new instructions: bring the package to the old abandoned distribution warehouse on the edge of town. Upon delivery of the package, we tell you where your little girlfriend is.”

“You have Allison.” This new knowledge brings back the panic, mixed with anger this time. “We can’t deliver something that we don’t have.”

“Those are your new instructions. Fail to deliver and the girl dies. You have two hours.” The line goes dead again. He turns to look at Stiles. He needs know if he’s the only one confused by this whole thing.

“Scott…” Stiles says, eyes wet, and threatening to spill tears any second.

\--

“You did what?!” He’s almost going blind with rage. He can’t even look at Stiles right now.

“I just wanted to hold on to it for a day or so! To see if we could get more money out of him.” He can see Stiles’ erratic hand gestures out of the corner of his eye. He understands Stiles, he really does. He just wishes Stiles had told him. They’re supposed to protect each other, that’s how this works. It’s one of their rules. No one gets killed; protect each other at all costs; no one gets left behind.

“You should have told me. We could have worked it out together. We’re supposed to protect each other.” Stiles doesn’t look at him or say anything, just looks at the ground in shame. Scott doesn’t doubt that his boyfriend’s actions weren’t malintentioned, just not very well thought out. Now the woman they love is suffering the consequences. 

“Get in the car.” Stiles hands over the drive and gets into the passenger’s side.

\--  
The ride to the warehouse is silent. They don’t say anything, they don’t look at each other. Scott’s trying to see it from Stiles’ perspective, trying to not be rough on him. He knows that getting Allison kidnapped wasn’t his intention, and he knows that Stiles must feel really guilty.

They get out of the car. Scott notices a limo parked next to a black SUV and figures that mayor must be here, too. Before they go in, Scott squeezes Stiles’ hand for a long moment.

“I know that you didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

He lets go and goes inside, Stiles trailing behind him.

“Ah, I see you made it.” It’s the mayor who greets them. He’s standing next to a bored looking bald man who is wearing enough weaponry and body armour to invade a small country. “I trust you have the drive?” 

Scott fishes it out of his pocket and holds it up in the air for him to see.

“Now you tell us where Allison is.” Stiles steps up beside him, eyes still a little puffy.

“I believe Ian here said _upon delivery_. You haven’t delivered yet. Hand it over, then you get your girlfriend’s location.” 

Scott walks towards him slowly, outstretching his hand with the drive in it for the mayor to take. The mayor snatches it and smiles at him. 

“Where’s Allison?” They’ve fulfilled their part of the bargain. He just wants to get Allison and go home, forget about this whole thing. 

The mayor and his lackeys start to laugh at him. The sound is absolutely sinister. 

“A word of advice, kid, don’t hand over your bargaining chip before you’ve got what you came for.”  
He pats Scott on the shoulder as he leaves.

\--  
“How do we know they haven’t just killed her, Scott? You saw that guy, you saw how many guns he had,” Stiles says when they’re back home, his voice wobbling like jelly.

“They can’t. They wouldn’t. She’s just a teenager,” Scott says, pacing a line in the carpet between the living room and the kitchen.

“A teenager who they hired to steal something from a very rich and very powerful man’s mansion,” Stiles says. Scott has to admit that he’s got a point. He refuses to give up hope though. Allison’s a survivor. 

“They didn’t kidnap just anyone, Stiles. They kidnapped Allison. She’s not helpless. We’ll get her back. We’ll find her.”

Scott doesn’t sleep beside Stiles in their bed that night, instead curling up by himself on the sofa, mulling over possible ways they can find Allison. It’s not that he’s angry with Stiles, not anymore. He understands; he just can’t be with Stiles when Stiles is convinced that Allison is already dead. She can’t be.

\--

Two days later, and they’re still no closer to finding Allison. They brought Derek and Lydia in on it, in case they had any new ideas. They even tried pulling some strings with Parrish and Sheriff Stilinski to see if they could trace Allison’s phone, but she must have turned it off when she was in class.

Stiles is retreating further into himself with every passing hour. He won’t eat, he won’t talk to anyone, and Scott guesses he hasn’t been sleeping. He has the beginnings of a grief beard. He physically blanches when Scott tries to renew his hope that they’ll find Allison alive. 

He knows that he has to do something. He has to help Stiles. He pours Stiles a bowl of lucky charms and takes it through to their bedroom. 

“Here, eat. It’ll help.” Stiles grunts but he does start to eat, which is progress. 

“Look, I know that you think that this is all your fault. You feel guilty. You think that Ally’s dead, you want to punish yourself.”

“This pep talk sucks.”

“Look at it this way, what if she is alive? The rules remember, no one gets left behind.” Stiles stares at him, mouth full of lucky charms and a little bit of milk dribbling down his chin.

“I guess you’re right.” Nodding to himself, he stands up. “What do we do?”

“Tell me where my old lacrosse stick is.” Stiles looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Scott takes one hand up to stroke the side of Stiles’ jaw, there’s a scratchy sensation where stubble has grown. “Trust me. It helps me focus.” 

“It’s in the storage unit out back.” 

The words make something click in his brain. He stills, and all the muscles in his body tighten as he tries to remember. 

“Stiles come on, get in the car. Right now. I know where Ally is.”

\--

Stiles’ face when Scott takes them back to the abandoned warehouse where they handed over the flash drive is the picture of confusion.

Scott can feel his pulse quicken the closer they get to the entrance. He can’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. 

“When we got here before and I noticed the mayor’s limo, there was an outbuilding out back. That has to be where they’re keeping Allison.”

They walk through the empty warehouse where they met the mayor before, right to the back of the building and outside into an industrial yard. Scott couldn’t be happier at the sight that greets them as they walk outside. 

Allison. Alive, and walking towards them. Stiles breaks out into a run to meet her, and Scott jogs to catch up to him. Stiles gets there first and pulls her into a bone crushing hug. Scott does a quick inventory of her injuries before hugging her himself. She has a few bruises that are starting to purple on her face, there’s blood on her shirt but he’s not sure if that’s even hers, he estimates that she has probably three broken fingers. 

“We were just coming to get you, did you not think we’d find you?”

“No. I knew you’d find me. You were just taking too long.”

**Author's Note:**

> for the polyamorous wolf exchange! as always, find me on [tumblr ](www.tumblr.com/queermartins)


End file.
